


Give Me The Sky

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [257]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU in Which Thanos Doesn't Break Loki, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Thor (2011), Rescue, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: They stood, as it were, on the precipice of all things.





	Give Me The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Give me the sky. A mountain. Your mouth. Give me your mouth. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

They stood, as it were, on the precipice of all things. The great bowl of the universe lay before them, a hundred million generations of stars caught between its rims, their light mixing, turning, until one spilled into the other and back again. Of all the sights Loki had seen, had had a hand in building, it was one of the few he knew he’d never forget.

There was also the small matter of the one who stood at his side, whose fingers rested on the small of his back, whose body had once been so essential, familiar, that Loki had been loathe to let it out of his grasp. But then Thor had become king--well, almost--and their father had banished them both, only Thor had found a way back, while Loki...had not.

He remembered Thor’s face as he fell, remembered looking up past the splendor of the bifrost to see his brother staring, screaming--so much pain and terror on his beautiful face--and it was only in that moment that Loki understood all that he had lost, all that he’d so freely given away, and for what? A chance to seize a crown that wasn’t his, that he didn’t really want; a chance to show up his father and humiliate Thor? _For what?_ he’d asked himself as he fell, as he felt space tearing at his being, his sanity. No momentary catch of revenge was worth drowning in the void, not like this.

He had fallen for so long that he’d begun to forget that there was something beyond it, that he’d once been more than empty, more than tattered, more than a creature ravaged by the unseeing black, and when the time came abruptly that he had nowhere left to fall, he had screamed himself voiceless in terror, horrified by the stillness, the solidity of a ship, the illusions of safety he had craved for so long.

In time, Thanos had offered him many things, but not safety. Never safety. Only a new kind of fear.

If he thought he’d known servitude before, if he’d been annoyed by the weight of Odin’s demands, on Thanos’ ship, the annoyance he’d felt at the last for his father seemed like gossamer, a fly about the face easily squashed, as compared to Thanos’s strange brand of cruelty, one presented as a gift for which the recipient should always be grateful. Even from the dead, it seemed to Loki, Thanos had expected obeisance.

Loki had never cared for pain, unless it was of his own choosing. He learned soon enough how to keep his head down and stay out of Thanos’s way.

There was still pain, of course. But in time--the only thing there was too much of--he learned how to manage it without losing the rest of his mind; it helped, he thought now, staring out at the jewels of the universe, that there had not been so much of that left.

His dreams had been filled with Thor, littered with him: the warmth of his body, the soft stroke of his mouth, the flare of his eyes--on that broken bridge, in their bed, across the table when they dined together, when there was the bloom of wine on his tongue. He dreamed of sex, of their arguments, of those heated moments when the two seemed to collide: Thor fucking him through his fury, moaning in Loki’s ear and laying waste to his reason, leaving only their shared pleasure behind.

At their best, such dreams had seemed like a prayer: _Find me. Find me, brother, beloved._ _I live. I am here. Find me._

At their worst, though, they were torture, a deeper sort than even Thanos’s minions could dispense, for they showed him what he had and it was then his anger turned inward, a fierce, awful blade: Hel, what a fool he had been.

And then one day, he’d awakened with a hand atop his mouth and an arm around his waist and a voice in his ear, urgent: _Shhh, it’s me. Stop struggling, Loki! It’s me. Be still. It’s me._

Thor and his damnable hammer. A rescue. The sight, as they fled, of Thanos’s ship torn by flames.

All this Loki had seen with his own eyes and yet, he had not allowed himself to believe. Not until Thor had settled him here, at the edge of all things, and held Loki’s face in his hands.

 _Brother_ , he’d said, a hint of his old, blinding grin. _How I've missed you_.

And when Thor had kissed him, bent his head and found Loki’s lips, there had been in him a sound such as he’d never known, not in all his millennia of life: pain, yes, the last strands of living fear, but one born of love, of reunion, of a flicker of hope that Thor’s tears on his cheek, the clutch of those big, beloved hands, fed and fed and fed until it was roaring loud around them, until it bound them, until they lay twined in the starlight united and crying out with pleasure as one.

Now, as he stood staring down at creation, the careful handiwork of the All Fathers, Loki leaned back into his brother’s touch and shivered at the waste of the past years--how many had their been?--of the time lost, at the joy of those that lay ahead.

Thor drew him closer and slid a kiss over his shoulder. _Are you ready?_

_For what?_

_For me to take you home._

_Will I be welcomed there?_

Thor sighed. _Of course._ _Much has changed in your absence._

_Odin is incapable of change._

_Odin is dead, Loki. For a long time now._ His arms tightened. He whispered: _Believe it or not, I am king_.

 _Good._ Loki lay his head back and pressed his mouth to Thor’s cheek and swallowed a rush of relief, something that felt like a sob. _Oh, Thor_ , he murmured. _That is so very good._

Then they were kissing again, fevered, a different sort of urgent than before, though its result was much the same: Thor on his back, gasping, his fingers biting gold at Loki’s hips, his own raised as Loki sank down on him, greedy.

 _Give me the sky_ , Loki said when they were joined.

Thor’s eyes found his, bright with remembering; old words from an old song. _It’s yours, my love._

 _A mountain_. Loki pitched down and pressed their foreheads together. _The highest, the fiercest._

_All that you ask for is yours._

Loki smiled, laid his over Thor’s own. _Your mouth_ , he whispered. _Give me your mouth, beloved._

 _Oh, my darling_ , Thor said, his great hand lost in Loki’s hair, his eyes soft and full. _The only name it's ever spoken is yours._


End file.
